


south china sea

by nahco3



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahco3/pseuds/nahco3
Summary: “Come on, who doesn’t want a White House quickie?” Jon asks, because he’s nothing if not willing to commit to a bit. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is obviously a product only of my imagination and in no way true at all. please do not share this with anyone involved.

“Hey,” Jon says, walking into Tommy’s office and absently refreshing his twitter timeline over and over again. “I thought we were getting dinner tonight, what -” 

He looks up and stops, abruptly. Tommy is sitting at his desk, head in his hands. His laptop is shut, and on top of it are sheets and sheets of paper, all heavily redacted.

“Lovett?” he says. He’s trying to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and pretend he wasn’t crying. Jon turns around to shut his door, give him a little privacy.

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” Tommy says. “I didn’t mean to. There’s just - this -” He gestures to the papers and then curses. “Shit, that’s all classified.”

“Don’t worry,” Jon tells him, “I’m illiterate and also failed my 7th grade world geography quiz.”

That should make Tommy laugh, at least a little bit, or banter back or _something_ , but instead he just bites his lip and gathers the papers up, putting them carefully into a folder. 

“So I’m guessing dinner isn’t happening,” Jon says and Tommy’s face falls even more, which Jon did not think was even possible. It’s tragic, and it makes something twinge in his chest that he wishes he were immune to.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says. “I know I’ve been a terrible roommate lately but just.” He looks at Jon desperately, and Jon gets it. Tommy thinks he can keep the entire world safe by just worrying enough and trying his best. It’s cute.

“Is there something I can get for you?” Jon asks. “Take out? Coffee? Discreet call girl?” God, Jon’s jokes just are not landing tonight, because that just makes Tommy’s eyes get this desperate, heartbroken look. What is he being so tragic about?

“Come on, who doesn’t want a White House quickie?” Jon asks, because he’s nothing if not willing to commit to a bit. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Tommy splutters and flushes, but at least now his embarrassment is warring with his misery. 

“Come on,” Jon repeats, sitting down on the edge of Tommy’s desk and swinging his legs over, so he’s facing Tommy. “You’re crazy hot. Pick an intern, any intern, and I’ll make it happen.” 

Tommy stands, scrubbing a hand over his face. He steps in towards Jon and then stops, abruptly. “Lovett,” he says, voice rough, somewhere between annoyed and amused and something else. Jon purses his lips, thinking. He’s a writer, the fucking greatest wordsmith of his generation. He can put a name to whatever else is there, in Tommy’s eyes and his voice, if he tries hard enough.

“Everyone’s doing it. Them,” Jon says. “The interns. You probably heard me last week with that one from OMD. They’re all obsessed with you and your,” he gestures up and down at Tommy’s fucking wrinkled button down and pale blond stubble, the tight fit of his goddamn chinos, “country club, Captain American bullshit. It’ll be good for your existential despair. Get your dick sucked.”

“Jesus,” Tommy says. “Lovett.” He’s not covering his eyes anymore he’s - he’s looking at Jon, his head cocked, his eyes a little wide. Oh, Jon thinks, that traitorous twinge in his chest coming back. Oh, so that’s what this is.

“Or, you know, senior staff is on the table if that’s what you’re into,” Jon continues, leaning back just a little bit so he can take all of Tommy in. “Literally on the table, in this case.” 

Tommy lets out a ragged breath. Jon is pretty sure this is a bad idea on every level but Tommy is biting his lip, maybe unconsciously, his eyes locked on Jon. 

Tommy goes pink. “Can I. You.”

Jon tilts his head. He knows what's coming; he's hooked up with straight guys before. He wouldn't have offered this if he minded sucking Tommy off - it's not like Tommy would be the only Clinton-era kid who wanted to get blown in the West Wing. Tommy wouldn't be the first one to ask, and most people don't blush so much first, run their hands over their mouths over and over. 

Tommy can barely meet Jon’s eyes. His face even redder now. 

“Just ask,” Jon says, trying to be gentle. He's not always good at gentle, but Tommy seems fragile right now so he at least wants to try.

Tommy drops to his knees. He presses his forehead against Jon’s knee at the edge of the desk. “Please.”

Surprise and arousal uncurl in Jon’s chest and his dick. “Fucking Jesus,” Jon says. “Yeah. Anytime. Go at it.”

Tommy lets out a shaky laugh. Jon reaches forward and runs a hand through his hair, feels the burning tips of his ears. The room is quiet and Jon can hear Tommy’s breathing, coming fast.

“Can you.” Jon’s hand has moved to Tommy’s cheek and he can feel Tommy swallow. “Come closer?” Tommy asks. His hands are on Jon’s thighs now.

Jon scoots forward and reaches down to undo his fly, his hands tangling with Tommy’s there. It makes him laugh, the clumsiness of it, and Tommy laughs too. Jon can feel Tommy’s breath on his dick through his underwear. He’s suddenly, vertiginously hard. Jon looks down at Tommy.

His eyelashes are so pale, his cheeks pink. He looks up at Jon for a second, desperate, like he can’t not. His pupils are blown wide; his lips are bitten pink and already parted.

Jon feels like he should be talking but his mouth is dry, his thoughts scattered. He swallows, trying to collect himself, cupping the back of Tommy’s head and pressing him inward. Tommy moves with the pressure, mouthing at Jon’s dick through his underwear. 

“God, Tommy,” Jon says, laughing a little at the absurdity of it. “Who knew all I had to do was ask.”

Tommy makes a small, pained noise and draws Jon out of his briefs, sucks him down. It’s practiced, smooth, so unexpected it makes Jon’s head spin. He grabs onto the edge of the desk with one hand, Tommy’s head with the other. “Fuck,” he says. He’s trying to hold still, make this easy for Tommy.

Tommy sucks cock carefully and with incredible attention to detail. It’s maddening. His hands are gripping Jon’s thighs, like he’s afraid Jon will bolt, and he keeps looking up through his eyelashes, watching Jon. It’s almost coy. It’s fucking obscene, Tommy on his knees like this, so far outside of everything Jon’s ever imagined. 

“Just like that, that’s so good.” Jon says. Tommy moans around his dick and it reverberates up Jon’s spine. Fuck.

“Of course you fucking get off on praise, you human labrador retriever,” Jon says, running his nails along Tommy’s scalp. “Jesus. Do you want me to call you a good boy?” He can feel Tommy’s full-body shudder in response. Tommy takes Jon deeper into his mouth, smooth glide and velvet heat. 

“Oh my god, you do, don’t you.” He should sound smug but his voice comes out shaky. “You want it so badly.” Tommy makes another noise in response, something helpless from the back of his throat. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jon says. “I should have made you beg for it.” He’s thrusting into Tommy’s mouth now, needing more, faster. He can’t think about being careful, he can’t think about anything but Tommy’s mouth. God. 

“You’re so good,” he says. “You're so good to me.” Where is this even coming from. “Tommy,” he pants, losing his words, losing everything in Tommy’s mouth. He tries to squeeze Tommy’s shoulder in warning but it must not work because he’s coming, desperate, frantic, in Tommy’s mouth.

When Jon comes back to himself, Tommy is kneeling on the floor, his head bowed, pants undone, a hand moving frantically over his cock. He has a smear of Jon’s come on the corner of his mouth.

Jon slides off the desk, still post-orgasmically clumsy. He sits next to Tommy, who looks down at him, wide-eyed.

“Feel free to beg,” Jon says, with a wink. He spits into his palm and Tommy makes a noise that's almost a sob.

“Jon,” he says. “God. Please,” and then he’s pulling Jon into his lap and kissing him. He tastes like Jon’s come; he kisses like the world's ending. Who knows, maybe it is. Who cares.

Jon gets his hand between them and jerks Tommy off, not taking his time. Tommy’s cock is already leaking and Jon pulls back from the kiss, mutters into the side of Tommy’s neck, “you’re so fucking easy for me,” and bites where the words land. Tommy makes another inchoate noise, his hips stuttering. 

“Jon, please,” he says. His eyelashes are fluttering, like he wants to look at Jon and can’t bring himself to. Jon kisses him again, bites his lips and sucks Tommy’s tongue into his mouth, jerks him off until Tommy’s mouth goes slack and he comes, his breath harsh and broken.

Tommy’s flushed even darker now. He’s looking at Jon like he can’t stop, like it hurts him. Jon reaches up to Tommy’s desk, grabs some tissues to clean them both up. There’s some come on Tommy’s shirt but, can’t be helped. 

He zips Tommy’s pants back up for him and reaches up. There’s still some of Jon’s come on Tommy’s face and Jon wipes it off with his thumb. Tommy turns his head and Jon can feel his cheeks heat up and then Tommy licks Jon’s thumb clean, his tongue curling gently.

“What the fuck,” Jon says.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, looking down. Jon’s thumb is still resting next to his mouth; Jon can feel the word. “That was too much, yeah?”

“No,” Jon says. “That was insanely good.” He wants to kiss Tommy again but Tommy won’t look at him. He takes his hand away, pushes himself to his feet. Tommy stays on the ground for just a second longer, eyes shut, just breathing, and then he looks up and takes Jon’s hand.

He looks almost normal. 

“Thanks,” he says. “Um.” 

“Truly,” Jon tells him, “any time there’s a crisis in the South China Sea, I am beyond happy to get my dick sucked.”

“I can’t confirm or deny -” Tommy begins, rote, and then laughs at himself. “Yeah. Ok.”

They stand there in silence for just a second, Tommy looking at him. Jon feels good, loose-limbed and easy but Tommy’s eyes on him make him feel like his skin is too small.

“Jon,” Tommy says, and then his pager goes off. Tommy grabs for it. “Fuck. I gotta go. Sit Room.”

“Go,” Jon says, “save the world. I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, pausing at the door. “At home.” Then he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> many many thanks to [threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn) for beta reading for me, and to everyone [on tumblr](https://baking-soda.tumblr.com) who keeps encouraging me. love you all, see you in space jail.
> 
> UPDATE: [threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn) wrote an incredible Tommy/Jon fic that could be read as a sequel to this one. it's SO GOOD and you should all go read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10635351)!
> 
> in addition, [hardlythewiser](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sequinedfairy/pseuds/hardlythewiser) wrote ANOTHER INCREDIBLE FIC IN THIS VERSE, which you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10740093)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Into It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10635351) by [threeturn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn)




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